


Stars Are Gonna Shine Tonight

by starrywrite



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: ...sort of, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Childhood Friends, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Mentions of Cancer, Slow Build, THERE IS FLUFF OKAY. JUST GIVE ME A CHANCE., implied depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-22
Updated: 2015-10-22
Packaged: 2018-04-26 02:41:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4986964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starrywrite/pseuds/starrywrite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Heaven knows how I loved you.”- Five For Fighting, Heaven Knows. </p><p>AU! When young Dan first heard the story of <i>Sadako Sasaki and A Thousand Paper Cranes</i>, he decided that he didn't need to fold a thousand paper cranes in return for a wish, because his greatest wish he never made has already come true: he has a friend like Phil Lester. Dan and Phil have been best friends for as long as Dan can remember (and maybe Dan’s been a little in love with Phil for as long as he can remember as well), and everything is nothing short of perfect for Dan Howell. But then all it takes is three words to shatter Dan’s entire world, and he decides that maybe wishes aren't as overrated as he thought - if a wish could save Phil's life, that is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stars Are Gonna Shine Tonight

**Author's Note:**

> oh man, this fic has been something i’ve been wanting to write for a long time now, and what started off as an intended v short oneshot and it’s now… this!!! 
> 
> let me just say that it was the BIGGEST struggle to get this fic posted, for a multitude of reasons, and now not only am i emotionally drained but i'm p sure that i have carpal tunnel. but i digress - speaking of which, however, i just want to give the biggest thank you ever to my fantastic beta Kayla, for not only being the most incredible and insanely helpful, but for literally saving this fic’s life <3 i can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done!! and thank you to Alex for also helping me save this fic when i thought it died, and for being a v patient artist when we had to change the posting dates ^_^ <3 alsooooooo one more thank u to my bby Paloma who, despite not being in the phandom or even knowing what this fic was about, offered to help me with the editing anyway <3 
> 
> final thoughts: this fic was somewhat inspired by the song “Heaven Knows” by Five For Fighting and the story of Sadako Sasaki and A Thousand Paper Cranes. (((disclaimer: the story of Sadako Sasaki and A Thousand Paper Cranes is a true story; credit is given where credit is due for the retelling of that story in my fic!))) and i really hope you enjoy it!! <3

Phil Lester has been Dan Howell’s best friend for as long as he can remember - quite literally, in fact; and not only that, but Phil was Dan’s _first_ best friend.

Phil had been in Dan’s life literally since day one. Dan’s mum often told him stories of how Phil was there when he was born, how he was one of the first people to hold him, how Phil kissed his forehead and made everyone in the room squeal, _“Awww!”_ \- a story that makes Phil’s face flush cherry red whenever an adult reminisces. Dan often wondered if that was the reason why they’re best friends - because they had known each other for so long. 

Or, maybe it’s because Dan’s mum and Phil’s mum had been best friends since uni. Dan’s mum was there when Phil was born, and Phil’s mum was there when Dan was born. The two of them are as close as a pair of friends could be, and maybe that’s why he and Phil are best friends. Maybe it was simply meant to be. 

Whatever the reasoning behind the two of them being so close, Dan can’t deny that he is incredibly lucky to have Phil as his best friend. He’s kind, caring, loving, and affectionate. Despite their four and a half year age gap, Phil still hung out with Dan even as he got older, and all of the other kids told him it wasn’t cool to play a five year old. Phil didn’t care; he was still friends with Dan and played trains with him, even though it wasn’t “cool.” 

Even when Dan had no idea what any of those words meant, he just knew that Phil was special and important, and that he was so fortunate to have him in his life. And even when everyone else thought that Dan was just a baby and boring, Phil still wanted to be his best friend. That’s when Dan realized just how lucky he was, and he’s never forgotten it. 

* * *

Every morning, Phil left for school. But, because Dan was too young, he was never allowed to go with him. Dan didn’t always take it well. He would cry when Phil left, but Phil always promised he’d come back to him soon. As soon as the school day ended, Phil would go straight to Dan’s house for an afternoon snack with his best friend. Dan was always happiest when Phil came over to play and eat biscuits with him. 

When Dan got to be a little older, he was _finally_ able to go to school. Dan was incredibly excited to go with Phil every morning! Or, at least that’s what he thought. While he was old enough to go to school, he wasn’t quite old enough to go to the same school as Phil did. Instead, he went to preschool, which was at a separate school than the one Phil went to and it was never as fun as spending time with Phil. Preschool was too loud, none of the kids would share with him, and some of the bigger kids took his stuffed Winnie the Pooh just because they thought it was funny when he cried. He hated preschool sometimes, but snack and nap time kept him going, until his mum finally picked him up. 

Dan never told his mum or dad about the mean kids at preschool or how much he hated it, because he didn’t want to make them sad or worried. He did, however, tell Phil. 

During their playdates together, he would gripe and groan about how much he didn’t like the kids at preschool, and how he didn’t have any friends. Whenever he told Phil about the bullies, it made him realize that even if he didn’t have any friends at school, he had Phil. And Phil was better than anyone at his school - and definitely nicer. Phil would never take his stuffed Winnie the Pooh just to make him cry. When Dan told Phil everything about school, Phil would pull him into a hug and reassure him that when he started going to primary school, the kids would be nicer to him and that he would have loads of friends. But even at a young age, Dan knew that he didn’t need - or _want_ \- loads of friends; all he needed was Phil. Phil was nice and sweet and the best friend he could ever have. Why would he need anyone else?

* * * 

Dan and Phil spent a lot of time with Phil’s grandmother during their primary and secondary school years. Both Dan and Phil had working parents now, so Grandmother Lester volunteered to keep them in the afternoons.Dan loved Phil’s grandmother’s house. It always smelled like warm biscuits - even if she wasn’t baking Dan and Phil would play games together, watch each other do homework, and listen to Grandmother Lester’s stories. She told tales of princes rescuing princesses, people turning into frogs, fire breathing dragons - the list went on and on. Dan looked forward to her stories for than anything, even more than biscuits. 

One rainy afternoon, she called Dan and Phil into her bedroom. The two of them couldn’t play outside today and they’d been getting restless being cooped up inside. “I have a story for the two of you,” she announces promptly. Immediately, Dan and Phil are intrigued. 

“This story is called _Sadako Sasaki and the Thousand Paper Cranes_ ,” Grandmother Lester tells them. Dan and Phil sat criss-cross on her bed, awaiting the story eagerly. They knew at once this wouldn’t be like any other story they had heard before; Grandmother Lester didn’t have a book with big text and pictures, instead she sat with her hands folded in her lap and a smile on her face. 

“Once upon a time, there was a little girl called Sadako Sasaki,” she said. “She lived in Japan, where the atom bomb was dropped when she was two years old.”

“What’s the atom bomb?” Phil asked curiously. 

Grandmother Lester paused in thought for a moment. “It was a bomb dropped on Japan by the United States during the second World War,” she explained as simply as she could.

“Why?” Dan asked.

“That’s a story for another day, loves,” she said with a smile. “Now, may I continue my story about Sadako?” Dan and Phil both nodded eagerly. “One day,” she continues. “Sadako got very, very sick with something called leukemia. The people in Japan called it ‘the atom bomb disease’ at the time. It was a very bad illness. It was like a cold but worse, and she had lumps on her neck and behind her ears, kind of like the mumps. She had to stay in the hospital for a very long time, because she was very sick, and while she was there, she started making paper cranes.”

“What’s that?” Dan asked, his eyes wide and bright with curiosity. 

Grandmother Lester grinned. “it was this,” she said, reaching over to the top of her dresser and picking up a tiny bird made of purple piece of paper. “Paper cranes are birds made by folding paper. Sadako knew about an old Japanese legend that said anyone who folded a thousand paper cranes would be granted a wish. So, while she was sick, she began making cranes. And, by the time she turned twelve, she had folded over six hundred of them.”

“But did she finish? Did she get her wish?” Phil asked.

Grandmother Lester smiled at them, “That’s another story for another day.” And that’s how the story always ended. 

* * *

When he first heard _Sadako Sasaki and the Thousand Paper Cranes_ , Dan became enamored, not just by the story, but by the legend and the paper cranes. At the age of five, it became an obsession. The story was all he thought about - Sadako, paper cranes, the mysterious ending that Grandmother Lester always left up in the air. .

Every afternoon at Grandmother Lester’s house, Dan would ask her to tell them the story again, even if he and Phil had heard it dozens of times already. Even Phil was getting a bit tired of the story, as he’d been waiting patiently for quite some time to hear Grandma read them the new book he got for his birthday: _Our Animal Friends at Maple Hill Farm_. Eventually Dan got the hint that everyone else was tired of the story, so he developed a new obsession: learning to fold paper cranes. 

From then on, after he and Phil had finished their biscuits and milk each afternoon, Dan would ask Grandmother Lester if she could teach him to fold paper cranes. At first, she said that she couldn’t. She didn’t know how, because her paper crane was a gift from a friend. But, Dan was persistent. He wouldn’t give up until he learned how to fold a paper crane of his own. 

“I couldn't teach you, Dan,” she told him one day, “but there is a way for you to learn how to do it yourself.” Dan, excited and eager, was more than willing to try learning how to fold paper cranes. The following day, Grandmother Lester took him and Phil to the public library, where they found a how-to book with a chapter on origami and paper cranes.

Dan was more than ready to fold his first paper crane, but the task was proven to be much harder than he anticipated. He was all thumbs for the most part and wondered if his hands were just too little to get the folded right. Despite the book attempting to condense the instructions, there were just too many steps for a five-year-old to master. 

After yet another failed attempt, Dan crumbled up the colorful paper and threw it to the floor. He crossed his arms over his chest, as his lower lip began to tremble. Phil glanced up from his homework. “What’s wrong?”

“I couldn't do it,” Dan whimpered. “I couldn't make a crane.”

Phil’s lips dipped down into a frown and he abandoned his homework to join Dan’s side. “could I try?” 

Dan pushed a piece of paper towards him. It took Phil a few tries to get it right, and the finished product wasn’t all that pretty, but he managed to make something like a paper crane.

Dan’s eyes widened. “How’d you do that?” He asked in awe.

Phil shrugged sheepishly. “I don’t know. It was pretty hard, but I just kept on trying, and I finally got it.”

“I kept on trying, but I couldn’t get it,” Dan said with a pout. 

“Maybe your hands are too little,” Phil suggests after careful consideration, because that’s really the only logical explanation he could come up with. “But don’t feel bad. My hands were little like yours, and now they’re big, and they could fold cranes. One day, your hands will be able to fold cranes too!”

“But I want to fold cranes _now_ ,” Dan whined, because it just was not fair. There were so many things he couldn’t do because he was too little, and this was another one. He hated being little; he couldn’t wait to be big like Phil. 

Phil pouted a little, then bit his bottom lip in thought. “I have an idea,” he said. “I’ll make you cranes for now, until your hands are big enough to make them. And by then I’ll be, like, an expert at it so I’ll be able to teach you!” 

And, true to his word, every time Dan asked, Phil would make him a paper crane. Soon enough, Dan had a growing collection of Phil’s paper cranes waiting until he was able to add his own. It wasn’t easy learning. Even with bigger hands, mastering the art of origami was a challenge, and Phil just made it look so easy. But, Phil was a wonderful teacher, and he was always so patient with Dan. And, one day, Dan was at last able to fold a paper crane of his own. It wasn’t perfect by any means, but he had made it all by himself, and Phil was so proud of him. He was pretty proud of himself, too. Finally, Phil was the one with a growing paper crane collection. 

Every time Dan folded a paper crane, he thought of Phil. And, even to this day, some of Dan’s fondest memories from his childhood were the days he spent learning to fold paper cranes with his best friend.

* * *

Years later, when Phil was old enough to start watching Dan and his younger brother after school and on the occasional weekend, Dan still requested the _paper crane_ story before bed. No matter how old he was, he never tired of hearing it. However, the older Dan got, the more he started to question the mysterious ending. Whenever Phil and his grandmother told it, they always implied that it had a happy ending, in which everything turned out okay for Sadako. They always left it somewhat up for interpretation, dancing around Dan’s questions and leading him to believe that Sadako folded a thousand cranes and got her wish. It wasn’t until he was old enough to use the internet that he discovered the truth behind his favorite story.

_Sadako kept folding cranes even though she was in great pain. Even during these times of great pain she tried to be cheerful and hopeful. Not long afterwards, with her family standing by her bed, Sadako went to sleep peacefully, never to wake up again. She had folded a total of 644 paper cranes._

Six hundred and forty four cranes. A little more than halfway to a thousand, but not quite there, yet. Dan couldn’t help but feel heartbroken. She never got a chance to make her wish. 

“Why the long face?” A voice cut into his thoughts, and Dan nearly jumped out of his skin. His heart races a little but he manages to calm down not a second later when he glanced up to see Phil lurking in his doorway, a lopsided smirk on his face.

“it was nothing,” Dan mumbled, suddenly feeling very foolish and uncool for being sad over a story. 

“Are you sure?” Phil asked, walking into Dan’s bedroom and taking a seat on his bed. “You look a little down.”

Dan’s shoulders rose and fell, but he didn’t say anything for a moment, slowly turning his swivel computer chair. He paused for a moment, then asked, “How come you never told me what really happens to Sadako?” 

Phil opened his mouth, ready to protest, but decided against it and sighed. “it was kind of hard to tell a six-year-old his favorite story’s main character dies from cancer at the end. No one likes that kind of story.”

Dan mimicked Phil’s sigh. “She never even got her wish,” he muttered. “All this time I thought she had got a wish, and she never did.”

“Well,” Phil patted the spot on the bed next to him, continuing once Dan joined him. “Maybe some things in life shouldn't be controlled by wishes. Maybe some things are just meant to be.” When Dan looked unconvinced, he added, “Like you and I.”

Dan glanced up at him. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you’re like my best friend,” Phil told him, “and I’m your best friend - or at least, I hope I am.”

“You know you are,” Dan said, rolling his eyes.

Phil chuckled a little, looping his arm around Dan’s shoulders. “My point is,” he said, “I didn't wish for you; you just happened. But, you’re probably the best thing to ever happen to me. So, like I said, maybe certain things couldn't be wished for, they’re just meant to be, I suppose.” He squeezed Dan’s arm and repeated, “Like you and I.”

Dan managed a small smile; despite his sadness. Phil’s words comforted him and made him feel a little bit better. Still, he couldn’t help but worry because he spent years believing that if you folded a thousand paper cranes he would get a wish. Even though things were pretty good for him right now and he couldn't think of anything he would change with a wish - and a thousand paper cranes is a _lot_ \- now he just didn't have any proof that it could happen. He almost felt let down. Despite that, he remembered Phil’s words, because if something as great as his and Phil’s friendship could happen without either of them wishing for it, then maybe Dan didn’t need any wishes. 

* * *

Dan was wrong. 

He thought his life was great right now. His baby brother wasn’t as annoying as he used to be. His family had a dog. His parents were nice. School wasn’t always easy, but he did like it most of the time. And Phil was his best friend and he always made him feel better. He didn’t think he needed wishes to change anything, but he was wrong. He was so, so wrong.

Phil was leaving him—not today, but soon. He would be going away to uni, rather than living five minutes from Dan as he had all his life.. And Dan hated it. He knew he should be happy for Phil. Getting accepted into uni was apparently a big deal, because Phil’s mum had cried when they got the news. But Dan couldn’t be happy. After thirteen years of having the best friend he could ask for, he was going to lose him. 

He’d do anything he could just to have more time with him, but he knew that no amount of time would be long enough. He’d never be ready to say goodbye to Phil. Dan hated uni; he hated that uni would be taking his best friend away. All he wanted was for Phil to stay with him, but no matter what, he couldn’t convince him to stay. He even told him a swarm of horses had invaded the university, knowing full well that Phil was terrified of horses, but Phil didn’t believe him. 

And, now, it was the night of Phil’s going away party, and Dan had spent the evening holed up in his room avoiding everyone, because he didn’t feel much like celebrating. Instead, he was a man with a plan, and he couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of this sooner.

He was going to fold a thousand paper cranes, and use his wish to get Phil to stay with him, instead of leaving for uni. 

He felt the slightest bit guilty for not going to Phil’s party, but he knew in the end it would all be worth it—even the paper cuts and hand cramps. He’d been folding cranes for over an hour and felt as though he’d folded hundreds but, in reality, he’d only folded about twenty. He sighed, frustrated because at this rate he wasn’t even going to have sixty until midnight He had no idea how Sadako managed to fold over six hundred.

There was a knock on his bedroom door - probably his mum again, trying to convince him to join the party. Dan huffed an annoyed “Go away!” before refocusing all his futile attention on a crumpled piece of paper he’d been coaxing into a crane.

His bedroom door creaked open and he grumbled in annoyance, looking up to tell his mum to go away, but he stopped suddenly when Phil poked his head inside. 

“Hey, you,” he said with a grin that made Dan’s stomach feel funny and chest feel tight. 

Dan turned away. Looking at Phil felt a lot like looking at the sun all of the sudden. 

“I know my mum’s parties are kind of lame, but would you really rather spend your night folding paper cranes than hanging out with me?” Phil asked, walking in to take a seat next to Dan.

“If folding paper cranes gets you to stay, then yes,” Dan replied stubbornly, his tongue poking out over his bottom lip as he tried to concentrate yet again.

“What do you mean?” Phil asked, gently reaching for Dan’s hand to stop him from picking up another piece of colored paper. 

Dan sighed again, peering up at Phi. “I’m going to fold a thousand paper cranes,” he mumbled, almost too softly for Phil to hear. “And I’m going to use my wish to keep you here with me.” He felt weird saying it aloud, like he had spilled a huge secret.

Phil smiled a little, ruffled Dan’s hair, and spoke softly, “Dan, no matter how many paper cranes you fold, I’m still going to have to go to uni.”

“Not if I fold a thousand,” Dan insisted. “Then, I’ll get a wish, and I could wish for you to -”

“Dan,” Phil interrupted gently. “Just because I’m going away to uni didn't mean we wouldn't be best friends anymore.”

“But, we aren’t going to see each other all the time, anymore,” Dan sighed sadly.. 

“That’s true,” Phil begrudgingly admits. “ _But_ we could talk on Skype every night, if you want, and we could talk on the phone all the time. And, I’ll come visit every weekend! We could write each other letters. We’re always going to be in contact, Dan! I promise. It’ll be like I never left.” 

“But, you are leaving,” Dan muttered, looking down at the crumpled origami paper to contemplate the immense task before him.. 

“But, I’ll be back,” Phil told him. “Just because we wouldn't live five minutes from each other, didn't mean we aren’t going to be friends, anymore. You’re my best friend, Dan. Uni wasn’t going to change that.”

“Promise?” Dan asked, his voice soft and vulnerable, fearing any other answer than the one he happily gets. 

“Promise,” Phil replied immediately. And all of the tension in his chest slowly started to melt away. .

Dan sighed again, glancing at the piece of paper in his hands for a moment before he discarded it completely. He turned to look at Phil. “Okay,” he said. “Okay, I guess you’re right.” 

“Yeah?” Phil asked, smiling a little. 

Dan nodded. “Yeah, I suppose,” he said, still feeling a bit reluctant to accept Phil leaving, but Phil had never lied to him.. He knew he could trust Phil when he said they would be friends no matter what.

“Now, it was your turn to promise me something,” Phil told him.

“What?” Dan furrowed his eyebrows together. 

“Promise me that by the next time I see you, you’ll cut your hair,” Phil teased, reaching over to ruffle Dan’s messy, overgrown hair.

“You twat!” Dan laughed, swatting Phil’s hand away and reaching for a pillow to smack him. Phil laughed and snatched another pillow to hit Dan back. Dan yelped in surprise, and Phil’s laughter brought a wide smile to his face. But, of course, this meant war and it didn’t matter how easily they played off each other - there are no friends in war. Dan and Phil went on thwacking each other with pillows, their stomachs aching from the tremendous effort and exuberant laughter. Dan’s cheeks hurt from smiling so much, but he couldn’t help it. Phil just made him so happy. Whenever he was around, Dan smiled from ear to ear. Dan knew even if Phil did leave him for uni, he would always inspire happiness within him. 

The two continued with their pillow fight until Phil gasped “Truce!” and collapsed onto Dan’s mattress. 

Dan laughed a little and flopped down next to Phil. He stared at him for a moment: Phil laid on his back on Dan’s bed, his chest heaving up and down as he tried to catch his breath. A tired smile was stretched across his face and his eyes were shut. 

“I’m gonna miss you,” Dan blurted out in an exhale, breathless partly from Phil whacking him with his own pillows, but breathless mostly because of _Phil_.

Phil opened his eyes and glanced up at him. “I’m gonna miss you, too.” His tone was just as hushed as Dan’s. He smiled, and it felt like a knife to Dan’s stomach. “Just remember,” Phil added. “This wasn’t goodbye. it was ‘I’ll see you soon.’ Okay?” 

“Okay,” Dan agreed. 

“C’mon now,” Phil said as he stood, reaching for Dan’s hand. “Let’s go back to my lame party.”

Dan smirked a little as he took Phil’s hand and joked, “It wouldn't be lame once I’m there.” 

Phil rolled his eyes. He threw his arm around Dan’s shoulders and guided him from the room, the twenty-something paper cranes left behind in a discarded mess on the floor. He didn’t look back at them. 

* * *

Phil kept his promise; while he was at uni, he and Dan still remained the best of friends. It took some adjusting at first, but soon enough the two of them had gotten into a routine of Skype calls and frequent visits. Phil was right. It was like nothing had changed, even though everything had changed. This was their new reality. It was different, but there was nothing wrong with different. They were still Dan and Phil, and they were unbreakable. 

Or, so Dan thought. It wasn’t until Dan’s first year of uni that things started changing again, in a way that no one could’ve anticipated. 

It was an ordinary weekend. Dan had bullshitted his way through a week’s worth of classes, and he was finally free to come home to his family, his dog, and Phil—and there was nothing he was looking forward to more. After a long train journey and cab drive, he expected to be greeted with hugged and biscuits, but instead, he was greeted with the sight of his mum crying on the couch, his dad sat next to her looking near tears himself. 

Dan looked at them both, neither of them seeming to acknowledge that he had entered the room. He coughed lightly. “Hello?” 

His mum sniffled, wiping her eyes as his dad cleared his throat. “Dan,” he said, his voice thick. “Welcome home.”

“What - what’s wrong?” Dan asked, not wanting to beat around the bush. He gripped his bag tightly in his hands, his knuckles going white. He felt shaky and unbalanced. He felt like something was _wrong_ but he didn’t know what, and he was suddenly drenched in fear. 

“it was Phil,” his mum finally said, and Dan felt his heart stop, his legs nearly giving out. “He’s -” his mum choked on her words. “He’s sick.” Dan didn’t say anything; his mouth felt dry and speaking seemed an impossible task at the moment. “Catherine phoned us earlier this morning,” his mum continued, referring to Phil’s mum. “Dan, he’s got -” she stopped for a moment, a fresh wave of tears rolling down her cheeks as she buried her face in the pile of tissues clutched in her hands.

“it was cancer,” his dad finished for her. “Phil has cancer.”

Three words. That was all it took to shatter Dan’s entire world. 

He wanted to believe his parents were lying. He wanted to believe this was some sick joke. He wanted to scream, to cry, he wanted to do _something_ -anything. But, he couldn’t. He couldn't think, he couldn't speak, he couldn't breathe. All he could do was replay his dad’s words in his head over and over again - _“Phil has cancer.”_. They echoed in his mind and made him feel sick to his stomach. It couldn't be real, none of this could be real.

Dan didn’t say anything to his parents as he dropped his bag to the floor and turned around to open the door again. He ignored their cried after him, and his legs shook as he rushed from the house He started to run. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d properly run anywhere—and his body certainly wasn’t built for it—but he felt a surge of energy coursing through his veins as he took off as fast as his legs would carry him. And he didn't know where he’s running to, but he knows _who_ he’s running to: Phil.

* * *

He ran to the Lester’s house first, and Phil’s parents gave Dan the address to the hospital where Phil is currently at, undergoing some tests and awaiting the results. Dan rang a cab immediately and everything else just felt like a blur until he arrives there. His body works on autopilot from then on out -- he paid the cab driver, then headed towards the hospital, the automatic doors sliding open as he stepped up to them. He looked around as he walked inside, feeling as though he was trapped in some fucked up dream. _This shouldn’t be happening. I shouldn’t be here_ , he thought. _Phil shouldn’t be here._

“Excuse me, sir?” A receptionist at the front desk snapped him out of his thoughts. He turned to look at her. “May I help you?” she asked with a cheery smile. Dan wasn’t quite sure how she could be smiling in a place like this. 

“I -” he paused for a moment, then swallowed and took a deep breath. “I’m looking for Phil Lester’s room.” The words left a bad taste in his mouth, like pennies on his tongue, and he couldn’t swallow it down.

“Room O19,” the receptionist told him. She gave him a visitor’s sticker and brief directions to Phil’s floor. Dan mumbles a “thank you” so quietly she barely heard him.

There was a frigid chill amid the distinct scent of sickness and sterility inside the hospital. The hairs on the back of Dan’s neck stood on end - from either the cold or the fact that he was fucking terrified walking down these halls. He stumbled through the maze of hallways and stairwells, twice wandering into the wrong department in his nervous confusion. When he finally found Phil's floor, he paced the hall like a madman for fifteen minutes. When the awkward stares from the nurse's station at last became too much, he mustered up the courage to stop at the door to Room O19. The O and 9 stared down at him like eyes, and his stomach churned. He shook his head and ran his hand through his hair.

Dan felt like he could throw up. His best friend was laying in a hospital bed right now, and this was the first he’d heard about it. How could this be happening? How could Phil have cancer? And why hadn’t Phil told him? 

Dan shook his head, willing his brain to shut up for five seconds as he took a deep breath. He knew if he wanted answers he’d going to have to face this. His hands shook as he reached for the door handle, turning the cold knob slowly., When he at last pushed it open and took the first steps inside, his legs felt like Jell-O. 

Phil was sitting up in his hospital bed, hunched over his laptop and clearly fixated on whatever he was doing. He didn’t even notice Dan until the door snapped shut behind him. Phil didn’t look sick. His cheeks were rosy, and his eyes were shining. His lips curled into an easy smile as soon as he saw Dan. Unfortunately, none of that was even remotely reassuring.

“Hey!” Phil exclaimed, sounding the same as when he phoned Dan last week. Dan wondered if he knew he was sick then, if Phil knew and didn’t tell him. He wondered if Phil was utterly clueless at the time. Part of him hoped for the latter, just so he could find a way to go back in time and warn this bright-eyed boy of what’s to come. “I - I didn’t know you were coming home today,” Phil stuttered. “I was going to call you, I didn’t -” he scratched the back of his neck. “I didn’t want you to find out this way, Dan. I promise, I didn’t.”

Dan didn’t say anything, he couldn’t say anything. 

“I don’t know how much you know,” Phil started, “but I suppose you must be wondering what’s going on?” Dan just nodded his head slowly, still finding himself unable to speak, and Phil sighed. “Right, so, I -” he paused for a moment to chuckle, a nervous habit he’d had for as long as Dan could remember. Right now, it made his chest ache and his stomach drop in a way that it never had before. “My back had been hurting a lot lately,” Phil started to explain. “But that was kind of normal for me. I mean, I spent years sleeping on a shitty, stiff mattress at uni. And let’s face it, I don’t sit up straight, which makes sense because we all know I’m not.” Phil’s attempt at humour didn’t sit well with Dan, and he couldn’t even manage to crack a smile for his friend’s benefit. Phil sighed again and ran his hands through his hair before continuing. 

“I didn’t want to go to the doctor about it. They’d probably recommend a massage therapist for me to spend way too much money on, and then I’d have to go see them again and again, and spend even _more_ money - it was all just something I wanted to avoid. But,” he paused for a moment, sighing again. Dan watched him carefully as he ran his fingers through his fringe, and he couldn’t help but wonder how much longer until he didn't have any hair left. 

“But,” Phil repeated. “The pain - it wouldn’t go away, and it was starting to get worse. So, my parents talked me into seeing a doctor. And,” he hesitated again, Dan’s heart pounding to fill the silence. 

“They did a couple of tests,” he went on, “and some x-rays. And, I have something called MPNST—a malignant tumor in my spine.” 

Dan felt dizzy and gripped the railing around Phil’s hospital bed, because he felt as though the floor was going to disappear beneath him. His chest felt tight and his breath escaped his lips in short, strained huffs. He was shaking all over. “A -” He couldn’t find his voice at first and he swallowed hard, licking his lips before he tried again. “Are you going to die?” he whispered. 

Phil looked down at his lap and he didn’t say anything for a moment. Dan choked out, “Are you going to die?” again, a hint of hysteria coloring his tone this time. His stomach was in knots, and he felt like he could throw up. He took a deep breath to calm himself down. 

“I have a fifty-fifty chance of beating it,” Phil explained at last, his voice barely audible. “I start chemo this week.” 

_Fifty-fifty._ Dan tried to rationalize with himself. Fifty-fifty was a pretty good chance, Phil was likely to beat it. He was healthy, having never really been sick before now. Fifty-fifty. He could do it, he could beat this cancer. It could happen. 

But he couldn’t be rational, because this was his best friend in the whole world. He was sick, and he could die, and he never thought he’d have to hear the words “Phil,” “tumor,” and “chemo” all in the same sentence, and he was so scared, he couldn’t even put his feelings into words. Dan didn’t realize how fast his heart was beating until there was a sharp throb in his chest. He felt lightheaded and breathless and could hardly choke out an “excuse me” before he turned on his heels and left Phil’s hospital room as fast as he could.

He didn’t make it far. He dropped to his knees right outside of Phil’s hospital room and pressed himself up against the wall. Hot tears welled up in his eyes as he squeezed them shut, trying to wrap his mind around how this could’ve happened to Phil.

* * *

The weekend went by in a blur, and Dan avoided the hospital like the plague. He also ignored the white hot guilt settled in the pit of his stomach. He told his parents he had a ton of homework to excuse the fact that he’d been locked away in his room all weekend. He shut his phone off because he couldn’t stand to see Phil’s name illuminate the screen, asking him if he was okay. He wasn’t okay - of course he wasn’t okay. His best friend - the one person he cared about more than anything - had just received a death sentence. Of fucking course he wasn’t okay.

But Phil wasn’t okay either, that much was obvious. Mr. and Mrs. Lester weren’t okay. Phil’s brother wasn’t okay. There was a whole list of people who came before him on the “are you okay?” list, but he couldn’t help but be so fucking selfish—like how _he_ felt actually mattered. He wasn’t the one losing a son or a brother. He wasn’t the one with cancer. 

It wasn't until he was faced with his return to school that he finally visited Phil again.

Phil was sitting cross-legged in his hospital bed when Dan walked into the room. He was hunched over, messing with his laptop, and all Dan could think about is years of Phil sitting like that - on his bed, on his floor, at Dan’s house. He’s always sat hunched over like that, always complained about back pain.

“Hey,” Dan whispered, making his presence known when Phil didn’t notice. 

Phil glanced up and smiled widely. “Hey!” He shut his laptop immediately and leaned back against his pillows. “I’ve missed you,” he said, his tone suddenly serious and melancholy, and his words felt like a stab to Dan’s chest. 

“Sorry,” Dan said, his voice soft and hoarse. He spoke slowly as if he was trying to learn how to talk again. 

“Don’t be sorry,” Phil interrupted immediately. He’d always been like this, never wanting Dan to feel bad or think that he was upset with him for any reason. He was always smiling. 

A sudden thought crossed Dan’s mind: _How long until Phil stops smiling?_ Dan wanted to throw up.

He hesitates for a moment, taking time to gather his thoughts and try to organize them. “it was just,” he started softly. “it was hard to see you like this,” he blurted, his voice hushed. He wanted to cross the room to Phil’s side, but he couldn’t make himself move. 

“I know,” Phil said—he was always so understanding. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, okay?”

“Okay” was all Dan could say before his brain began to short circuit again. Neither of them said anything for a moment. Then, Dan murmured, “Are you scared?”

Phil hesitated. He never used to hesitate. “I don’t know,” he admits softly. “I mean, my back hurts a lot of the time. Who am I kidding? My back hurts almost all of the time.. So, I’m in pain constantly. But other than having to come to the hospital all the time for tests and check ups, I don’t _feel_ sick. I mean, obviously I am sick - I _know_ I’m sick, but I don’t feel sick.” He paused for a moment. “I feel like I _should_ be scared, but I’m not.”

Dan wished he was as brave as Phil. “I’m scared,” he whispered.

Phil smiled sadly and extended his arm toward Dan, wiggling his fingers a little in a silent plea. Dan inched across the room, terrified of breaking something. The last time he was in a hospital, he knocked over his grandad’s IV stand.. 

When he was finally within reach, Phil grabbed his hand, and Dan felt warmth radiate through his body. Despite it all, he shivered. 

Phil squeezed his hand. “Everything is going to be okay. I’m going to be strong, and I’m going to beat this, and this is all going to be okay. _I’m_ going to be okay.” Dan didn’t say anything, he couldn’t. “I don’t want you tiptoe around me or worry about me, okay? I just want everything to be as normal as could be.” He paused again. “So, I guess that means you should probably go catch your train, yeah?”

Dan, again, couldn’t say anything. He silently toyed with the idea of staying home for a few more days, making up for lost time. In theory, it was a great idea. 

But, Phil’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “You have to go back to school, Dan.”

He sighed. “Fine, fine,” Dan muttered. Phil reached out for him, pulling him into a hug. Dan stiffened at first, but not a second later does he relaxed and clung to Phil, holding him as tight as he could. Phil squeezed back and it felt as though Phil’s arms were the only thing keeping him from breaking into a thousand pieces. 

“it was going to be okay,” Phil whispered. “Try not to worry too much about me.”

Dan worried about Phil so much, he missed his train and begrudgingly boarded a later one.

* * *

Dan stared at his laptop, the cursor blinking on a blank Google Doc, mocking him. His textbook was open on his desk, a pen and highlighter sitting in the spine of the book, but the words on the page didn’t look like words. They moved around before his eyes, looking like a a blurred mess. Eventually, he closed the book and tossed it aside. His paper was due tomorrow but he didn’t care. He hadn’t attended that class all week and he knew the assignment could salvage his grade, but his brain was foggy. All he could think about was Phil—who he’d left at home against his better judgement. Phil, who was lying in a hospital bed enduring test after test, needle after needle. Phil, who had cancer. 

He tried to remember what Phil had told him, but all he could recall was Phil telling him he had a fifty-fifty chance of getting better, and that alone made his stomach ache. He knew his cancer was some long-winded “sarcoma,” and before he could stop himself—because he _knew_ this was a bad idea—he found himself on Google, completely neglecting his report for the sake of researching Phil’s illness. It took a while to actually find it, but when he did, he stared at the word on his laptop screen with disgust.

_Malignant Peripheral Nerve Sheath Tumors_

_That’s what’s killing Phil_. Dan grimaced when the thought crossed his mind. Over the past week, his mind oscillated between _he couldn't die_ and _he might die_ —fifty-fifty. 

He took another glance at his neglected textbook and empty notebook, and closed his blank Google Doc without a second thought., He opened as many tabs as he could about Schwannoma Neurofibrosarcoma, and began reading.

 _They make up less than 1% of all cancers diagnosed each year._

* * *

Dan became something along the lines of obsessed with Phil’s diagnosis. He spent more time than he’d willingly admit researching, absorbing every bit of information he could, rereading things just to make sure he hadn’t missed anything. When he wasn’t researching Phil’s cancer in lieu of coursework, he was skipping classes to visit Phil during chemo. His grades were beginning to suffer, and Dan _wished_ he cared. But, he didn’t. He didn’t care about law, his classes, or exams. All he cared about was Phil.

His parents find out about his skipping class escapades shortly after he started, unfortunately for him, because the next time he escapes home his parents are waiting for him at the train station. Fuck. Which then leads to Dan _not_ going to the hospital to visit Phil, and instead what happens is a conversation he didn't want to have at his house. Double fuck.

He revealed to his parents that he wanted to drop out of uni. He didn’t cushion the blow like he intended; he just blurted it out in the midst of his parents ranting about “getting his act together.” It instantly shut them up. He went on about how he hated law and uni, and how he wasn’t happy because of it. It was half true. He wasn't happy, but uni was only a minor contributor.

His mum mentioned Phil, and Dan denied, denied, denied - _“This has nothing to do with Phil!”_ It took damn near an hour, but he managed to convince his parents to let him take a year off. His dad swore they’d reopen the subject after Dan took a year to “get himself together.” Dan didn’t care. As soon as his parents left him alone, he rushed to the hospital to see Phil.

But, of course, this had nothing to do with Phil.

* * *

During his gap year, Dan realized two things.

The first was that he was a liar. He lied to his parents about getting a job, looking at other universities, and deciding on his new major. Instead of doing any of that, he started spending almost all of his free time at the hospital with Phil. He knew that his parents were worried about him but he couldn’t bring himself to tone it down, so to speak. As soon as he woke up, he called for a cab to take him to the train station, where he took the train to the hospital where Phil became admitted more often than not. Dan started spending so much time at the hospital, he became a regular. The staff knew him by name and they greeted him when he arrived. He could get to Phil’s room with his eyes closed, and when he did, day after day Phil’s face lit up whenever he saw him, even though Dan had been visiting him consistently for months now. 

At the hospital, Dan decided his job was to keep Phil entertained. He brought him movies to watch on his laptop, found new shows and animes for the two of them to binge-watch together, he talked to Phil about absolutely nothing until he was blue in the face. He knew Phil liked the distraction, especially on his Chemo Days, when he spent hours throwing up nothing and struggling to stay awake. 

They never talked about chemo; Phil would send him a text, letting him know that today was a Chemo Day, and Dan would comes to the hospital an hour later than usual. He wasn’t proud of himself at all, but even if he had accepted the fact that Phil _was_ sick, there were still some things that he couldn’t handle. Chemotherapy was one of them, so the two of them didn’t talk about it outside of Phil’s texts. In fact, there were certain subjects that Dan and Phil tiptoed around until they decided to give up on them altogether. After a while it became a list of things - Things They Do Not Talk About - and Dan kept track of this list mentally.

They didn’t talk about Phil’s diagnosis, period. 

They didn’t talk about how sick Phil was. Dan asked Phil how he was feeling when he first saw him, and Phil always said “fine” even when he wasn’t. 

They didn’t talk about how Phil lied about being fine.

They didn’t talk about how Dan lied about being fine. 

They didn’t talk about school, spare for the mini conversation they had when Dan told Phil that he’d dropped out. 

And, they didn’t talk about how Dan was pathetically and irrevocably in love with Phil.

* * *

The second thing he realized was that he was pathetic. Or, maybe he was an idiot. Or, maybe it was a combination of the two. Maybe he deserved his own adjective because he could not, for the life of him, think of a word to describe someone who had fallen in love with their dying best friend. 

There was a part of him that knew he’d been in love with Phil for a year - maybe it’d just taken him until now to realize it. But for years, there’d been a sort of comfort that Phil had always brought him, a calmness. And no one else had ever made him feel that way. No one else had ever made his stomach ache or his heart race the way Phil did. There was no one else that crossed his mind more than Phil. And there was no one he wanted to be with, in any sense of the word, more than Phil.

When he thought about it, he’d known for years that he liked Phil as so much more than a friend. “Friends” didn’t seem as a strong enough word to describe their relationship, not even “best friends” seemed to work for Dan. Despite knowing he loved Phil as more than a friend, he’d always thought his feelings were platonic. 

But, as time went on, something changed. Maybe Dan did, maybe Phil did. But, when he looked back on it now, he realized that for as long as he could remember - or at least, once he became a teenager and that thing called puberty arrived and fucked everything up - his feelings for Phil were no longer strictly platonic. 

He loved Phil. He’d loved Phil for years, and he hadn’t stopped loving him. Maybe he never would. But none of that mattered now because it was too late. Now, Phil was sick. Now, Phil might be _dying_ , and Dan was in love with him, anyway. 

Maybe the second thing Dan realized was that he was a disgusting cliche. Yeah, that sounded about right. 

But, that was just another thing they did not talk about. 

* * *

There wa a reason Dan never asked Phil about chemotherapy, why he always tried to avoid the subject, why he always tried to pretend it didn’t happen. Because, he couldn’t stand seeing what it did to Phil. He couldn’t stand watching Phil in pain, knowing there was nothing he could do to help him. Chemo made him sick, it made him throw up for hours, even when he’d had nothing to eat. It made his entire body ache. It made him exhausted. Sometimes, Dan wondered if the chemo was killing him faster than the cancer. 

Today was a Chemo Day like any other. The room was mostly quiet, because Dan didn’t know how to fill the silence or cover up Phil’s gasps of pain as he struggled to get comfortable in his hospital bed. He didn’t know what to say when Phil vomited then choked out an apology. Dan whispered that he didn’t have to apologize but he could barely be heard over the sound of Phil gagging. Dan crossed the room slowly, forcing himself up from the mediocre comfort of his chair in Phil’s room. 

Phil dropped back against his pillows as Dan joined his side. “I hate this,” Phil whispered as Dan took a seat on the edge of his bed. Dan wasn’t sure if he was talking to him or not, so he didn’t respond until he heard Phil mumbling, “I couldn't keep doing this.”

“Yes, you can,” Dan told him. 

“Everything hurts,” Phil moaned, eyes screwed shut tightly. His arms were wrapped tightly around his middle, knees drawn up as he curled into himself. He shivered beneath his hospital blanket - if you could even call it that—it was so thin, it looked more like a napkin than a blanket. “I want it to _stop_.” Dan wasn’t quite sure what exactly Phil wanted to stop, but he wanted more than anything to stop it himself. He wished he could just take Phil’s pain away. He wished he were the one with cancer. 

“It’ll be okay.” It was all he could offer, because he didn’t quite know how to respond - he never did - but hearing Phil talk like that was terrifying. He couldn’t stomach the thought of Phil giving up and letting the cancer win. 

It was quiet for a moment, and Dan wanted to break the silence, but he didn’t have a clue what to say. Phil beat him to it, softly mumbling, “I wanted to go to Japan.”

“You will,” Dan immediately replied. 

“Yeah, if Make-A-Wish intervenes,” Phil muttered under his breath, and Dan felt like he could be sick.

“Stop it,” he whispered, and Phil opened an eye to look at him. “Stop– stop talking like that. You’re just having a bad day, and you feel like shit, but you’re going to beat this, and you’re _going_ to be okay.” He paused, taking a breath and hoping he sounded less angry when he added, “And you’re going to go to Japan.”

Phil’s lips twitched into something that Dan thought is supposed to resemble a smile as he whispered, “Okay,” before shutting his eyes again. The two of them lapsed into another silence, broken once again by Phil, who glanced at him with wide eyes and whimpered softly, “Will you tell me a story?” 

Dan knitted his eyebrows together. “A story?” he repeated, confused. 

He nodded. “I just need something to take my mind off of everything,” Phil whispered, his face scrunched up in pain. He couldn’t even bring himself to joke about it or crack a smile - something he usually did for everyone’s sake, because he never wanted anyone to worry about him. Not to mention, Phil never took anything too seriously in the first place, and Dan knew that he must be feeling like shit. Dan glanced at his friend curled into himself with his arms wrapped around his abdomen. He just looked so small. And, Dan thought to himself, if _he_ hated Chemo Days, he could only imagine how much Phil hated them. 

“I–” Dan stuttered. “I don’t know any stories,” he mumbled weakly. His mind had gone blank, every fable and fiction he’d ever been told suddenly lost. 

Phil pouted, pathetically yet adorably, blinked his eyes like a puppy dog, and asked, “Please, Dan?” 

Dan sighed a little, biting his lip and fiddling with a stray piece of thread on Phil’s hospital blanket. Neither of them said anything for a moment, Phil waiting to hear Dan’s story and Dan scrambling to think of one.

“Okay,” he finally whispered, and he took a breath, hesitating briefly. He looked at Phil again. The circles under his eyes were darker than they’d ever been, making his eyes look sunken into his head. He looked little more than a skeleton. His usually bright blue irises were dull, almost faded. Even his skin was looking pastier than usual, almost grey. It was as if someone put Phil into Photoshop and desaturated him near to grayscale. Dan had never seen Phil look like this before. The Phil he knows, loves, and remembers is bright and radiates sunshine in a way that no other person could. Or, maybe that was just Phil Before, and this is Phil Now - desaturated in every sense of the word. 

“Uh, once upon a time,” he started. Phil managed to smile a little at that. “There was a girl,” Dan spoke slowly, fully intending to make up a story as he went along when flashes of color exploded in his mind. The memory of paper grazing against his fingertips resurfaced. “There was a girl,” he repeated. “Named Sadako Sasaki.”

Phil’s lips curled into a wider smile. “She sounds familiar,” he murmured, eyes fluttering shut. Blindly, he reached out for Dan’s hand and wrapped his fingers around Dan’s. He shivered at the contact; Phil’s hands were always freezing lately. “Tell me about Sadako?” Phil asked, his voice already slurred with sleep. 

“S– Sadako,” Dan stuttered, trying to shift his focus from Phil’s hand in his to the story at hand. “Sadako was two years old when the atomic bomb was dropped in Hiroshima.” And suddenly, Dan was thrust back in time. He felt like a little kid again, sitting in Phil’s grandmother’s room listening to her tell them the story that, arguably, changed his life. “And, when she was twelve, she got sick.” he continued, speaking softly to Phil. “She had leukemia, and she was really scared that she was going to die. 

“Then, one day, Sadako’s best friend came to visit her at the hospital with some origami paper. And, she told her this legend that if someone were to fold a thousand paper cranes, they would be granted a wish. So, after hearing this, Sadako decided that she was going to fold a thousand paper cranes in the hope that she would get well again.”

Phil’s soft snoring interrupted him, and Dan’s lips twitched into a small smile. However, he continued retelling the story, the previously untouched memories now dusted off in his mind. “Sadako kept folding cranes, even though she was getting sicker and sicker and was in a great deal of pain. She didn’t give up, and she tried to be cheerful and hopeful. But, despite that, she passed away before she could finish folding a thousand cranes.”

Dan hesitated, squeezing Phil’s hand a little. “Do you think,” he whispered. “Things would be different if Sadako Sasaki had folded a thousand cranes?” Of course, Phil didn't answer him, but Dan’s mind was reeling now, because now he had this thought in his head - maybe if _he_ folded a thousand paper cranes, things would be different - and he knew it was juvenile and unrealistic, but _what if_?

The more he thought about it, the less crazy it sounded, and maybe he was just desperate at this point, but he couldn't just continue sitting around and doing absolutely nothing while Phil wasted away. And, after all, hope was the only thing stronger than fear wasn’t it?

He got a spare blanket from the closet in Phil’s room, draping it across his frail body as he whispered, “And they all lived happily ever after.” It was not the truth, not by a long shot, but maybe at least he and Phil would live happily ever after. 

* * *

As soon as he could, Dan headed to the shops and to buy as much origami paper as he could afford. He knew his parents were going to be pissed when they saw that his bank statement reveal he blew most his money at a craft store, but he didn't care. He _had_ to do this, he knew it would be worth it in the end. 

He started folding as soon as he had some alone time at his house. He was wary about bringing the origami paper to the hospital, or to Phil’s house, because he was rather secretive about it, at first - partially because he was embarrassed and didn't want anyone to know about his plan, but mostly because he especially didn't want Phil to know what he was doing. So, the paper cranes became his little secret. 

He folded the first crane at half past twelve on a rainy night. He stared at the small bird in his hands. He hadn’t folded one of these things in years, and he was genuinely surprised that he remembered how. It didn't look perfect, but he figured it looked a lot better than the cranes he’d tried folding when he was younger, and a small smile ghosted across his face. 

One down, nine hundred ninety-nine to go. 

* * *

Dan didn't fold all the cranes at once - it’d probably be impossible if he tried - but Phil’s health status affected his time for folding. And, Phil’s health fluctuated. Some days, he was fine, as if he didn't have cancer, and he got discharged from the hospital. He was able to go on walks in the park, visit the shops, and watch The X Files without falling asleep halfway through an episode. Those days had everyone on edge, because instead of appreciating the fact that Phil was feeling okay, they were just waiting for him to get bad again because they _knew_ it was coming. Or, maybe that was just Dan. 

On the days when he was fine, Phil came around to Dan’s house with Starbucks, and woke him up by singing loud enough to make Dan’s dog bark. On the days when he was fine, Dan threw pillows at him and told him to fuck off. On the Saturdays when he was fine, they got together and rented films to watch while eating Domino’s. Phil always ordered cinnamon sticks as well, even though he couldn't stomach such sugary snacks, anymore. They spent hours together, laughing and joking around until they fell asleep in Dan’s bed together. On the days when he was fine, it felt as though nothing was wrong at all. On the days when he was fine, Dan didn't fold any cranes at all.

But, Phil was not entirely fine, and he was not always fine. As time went on, their little get-togethers were relocated to Phil’s house, because he was just too ill and tired to travel to Dan’s down the road. When Phil’s health started to deteriorate, he ended up back at the hospital permanently. 

They couldn't watch movies with Domino’s on the weekends, anymore, and Dan started spending them folding paper cranes. 

* * * 

When Phil’s hair started falling out, Dan folded cranes faster and more frequently. 

Dan had always loved Phil’s hair - the cut, the color, everything. He’d always aspired to have his hair look as nice as Phil’s, but alas, Dan was cursed with the curliest of locks while Phil’s hair was always nice, straight, and messy in a clean way. Chemotherapy ruined Phil’s hair; it made it thin, wispy, and brittle to the touch. Then one day, Phil woke up to locks of black hair on his pillow. He called Dan in a panic, sobbing and hyperventilating into the phone because he was _scared_. And he _looked sick now_. And he _didn't want to be sick anymore_. Dan rushed to the hospital as fast as he could, trying to calm Phil over the phone. He told him that it was going to be okay, he was going to be okay, and he was on his way. When he finally got to the hospital - in record time, probably, though not fast enough - he found Phil pale-faced and shaking with locks of hair in his hands. 

“It’s okay,” was the first thing Dan said to him. He shakily walked over to Phil and brushed the hair out of his hands. Phil collapsed against him and sobbed. Dan held him close. He felt the urge to cry building up inside him, but he swallowed it down. He couldn't cry, he needed to help Phil stop crying, instead. “It’s okay,” he repeated. “It’s going to be okay.”

“ _Look_ at me, Dan!” Phil cried, sobbing against his shoulder. “I look like a fucking cancer patient!” 

Dan stops himself from replying, _You are_. He knew what he meant It was more real, now. 

Now that Phil’s hair was starting to fall out, everything felt more real. It was easy to believe everything was going to be okay when Phil’s cheeks were rosy and his hair was still a clean sort of mess on his head. But now, there were locks of Phil’s hair on his pillow, and everything just felt so real. It was fucking terrifying. 

It took him almost an hour to calm Phil down. Then, Dan shaved what was left of Phil’s hair for him, so it at least looked deliberate and decent. He told him that a buzz cut really suited him, and he tried to sound like he meant it. Phil thanked him, even though Dan knew that he hated the way he looked, that his hair was gone, and that he was sick. Dan held him and whispered to him how sorry he was. That night, while Phil slept, Dan folded as many cranes as he could before the fatigue took over. 

* * *

When it didn't seem like he was getting better, Dan folded more cranes. Phil started getting scared—scared of not getting better, scared of dying. During the day he was strong and brave. He smiled a lot even though he was sad, and he reassured everyone that he was going to be okay. 

But sometimes, in the middle of the night, Dan heard him crying softy into his pillow, and those soft cries sometimes turned into loud sobs. And sometimes, Phil didn't stop crying until he had fallen asleep.

Sometimes, he heard Phil praying to whoever was listening to please let him live. And, in all the time he’d known Phil, Dan had never heard him pray before. 

Sometimes, he talked out loud even though Dan was pretending to sleep, and he wasn’t sure if Phil just needed to get some things off his chest or if he knew Dan was awake. He talked to Dan and told him that he didn't want to die, and he was so, so afraid. He whispered to him about how badly he wanted to go to Japan, and get married, and have kids and a dog, and so much more. Then he would cry when he realized that he’d never get to do any of that.

Dan had never seen Phil more vulnerable or afraid than he was at night, and Dan wished he could block these nights out of his memory, because he didn't want to remember Phil like this. But, nights like this inspired him to fold as many cranes as he could, because he wanted Phil to go to Japan, and get married, and have kids and a dog, and do anything and everything he’d ever wanted to do. Because, he didn't want Phil to die, even though he’d already begun to accept that he probably would.

* * *

It took loads of time, despite Dan working as fast as he could, but he managed to do it. With papercut knuckles and shaky hands, Dan folded the thousandth paper crane. 

It was nighttime when he finally finished, and he felt as though he could cry. He actually _did_ it, he fucking did it. He folded a thousand paper cranes. And, now, everything was going to be okay. 

He kept thinking that as he dumped all the cranes into a black bin bag - _Everything is going to be okay, now_ \- and, if he were thinking clearly, he would have realized that he was a bit sleep deprived and overly emotional. But, he wasn’t thinking clearly, and, instead, he just kept thinking _Everything is going to be okay, now_. He tied the bag closed and threw it over his shoulder, thinking _Everything is going to be okay, now_ as he snuck out of his house to call a cab and head over to the hospital.

There were no nighttime visiting hours, but he was on good terms with a majority of the hospital staff, and with the right amount of puppy dog eyes and smiles, they allowed him to see Phil. With a black bin bag full of a thousand paper cranes over his shoulder, he thought _Everything is going to be okay, now_ as he entered the lift and to Phil’s floor. 

A small smile made its way onto his face. He still couldn't believe he’d actually done it; he’d actually folded a thousand paper cranes. He’d done what Sadako wasn’t able to do, and now Phil wouldn't suffer the same fate she did. Now, he was going to do what he’d been wanting to do for ages - he was going to make everything better. He was going to fix everything. He was going to make Phil okay again. 

He let himself inside Phil’s room, ignoring his friend’s surprised “Dan! What are you doing -” as he lifted the overstuffed bin bag and dumped exactly one thousand paper cranes onto Phil’s hospital bed— - and partially onto Phil himself— - before he could even ask what was going on. Phil stared in shock at the pile before him and looked up at Dan with knitted eyebrows, asking, “What is all this?” He spoke slowly, trying to process everything before Dan could explain.

Dan felt like a balloon blown up to capacity and on the verge of popping. His chest felt tight and he wrung his hands anxiously, beads of sweat rolling down the back of his neck. His stomach was in knots and he didn't know why. “It’s a thousand paper cranes,” he whispered, his voice shaking. 

Phil glanced at the cranes, then back at Dan, and all he could choke out was “What?” 

“A thousand paper cranes,” Dan repeated. He felt so small, pulling the sleeves of his jumper over his hands. He was trembling all over. “I folded a thousand paper cranes for you. Now,” he paused, licking his lips. His throat felt dry. “Now, you’re going to get better,” he finished.

Picking up one of the paper cranes and holding it gingerly in his hands, Phil closed his eyes, a pained expression straining his face. “Oh, Dan,” he muttered sadly. 

“You are,” Dan insisted. He started speaking faster, rambling. He was shaking harder now, and he felt a bit like someone was slowly letting the air out of him. He was deflating. “You– you’re going to get better, because I get a wish. It’s just like the legend said: Fold a thousand paper cranes, and you get a wish. And, I folded a thousand cranes, and now I’m going to wish for you to get better!” He forced a shaky smile, but it wasn’t genuine at all, and it felt foreign on his face. “You’re going to be okay now, Phil.”

Phil looked as if he could cry and he just shook his head, putting the crane down and bowing his head sadly. 

“You _are_ ,” Dan insisted again. “You’re going to be okay now. I’m going to _wish_ for you to be okay, and the cancer is going to go away, and–” Phil interrupted him, gently pulling Dan into a hug. And, in that moment, Dan felt like all the air had been let out of him. He collapsed against Phil, completely deflated, and cried. He cried harder than he’d ever cried before. He struggled to catch his breath, and he clung to Phil so tightly, worried he could slip away at any moment. 

Phil held him close, his hands pressed against his back. Dan’s shoulder felt wet with his tears. “I’m sorry,” he sobbed against Dan’s shirt. “I’m so, so sorry, Dan.” 

Dan wasn’t entirely sure what he was apologizing for - having cancer? Being sick? He had nothing to be sorry for. None of that was his fault. Or, maybe he was apologizing because his best friend was so naïve and desperate for him to live, that he actually resorted to folding a thousand paper cranes so he could wish for him to get better. 

Wishing. What utter bullshit. Wishes don’t come true, anyway. There was no magic in the world that could change Phil’s circumstances or save his life, and Dan hated himself for thinking otherwise. He’d just set himself up for failure. And that thing about hope he’d thought? Forget it. Hope only breeds misery. 

* * *

Dan barely remembered falling asleep last night. He just assumed he’d managed to cry himself into exhaustion after soaking Phil’s hospital gown with his tears. When he woke up, instead of relishing the fact that he’d woken up in Phil’s arms, he was greeted with a paper crane in his face. His eyes hardened into a glare, and he wearily reached out to swat it to the floor. He didn't want to so much as _look_ at another paper crane for as long as he lived. The last thing he needed was a reminder of how much time he’d wasted folding them in the first place.

Suddenly, remembering that there were one fucking thousand paper cranes all over the floor, he sighed heavily and reluctantly left Phil’s warmth to start throwing cranes out. One by one, he picked them up to drop them into the bin by Phil’s bed, lamenting the number of hours spent folding them. And, for what? Nothing. Nothing at all. He hadfuck-all to show for it. 

“What’re you doing?” a sleepy voice mumbled behind him, startling Dan. 

“Nothing, go back to sleep,” he replied, not turning to meet Phil’s eyes, even when he felt a cold hand grab his elbow.

“Why are you throwing those out?” Phil asked. “I like them.”

“I don’t,” Dan said, sulkily. 

It took Phil a moment to sit up—he’d been in more pain than usual, and moving around didn't happen as easily as it used to. Dan still didn't turn around, but he could hear him grunt achingly as he moved. “Well, I like them,” Phil repeated. “And, I want to keep them. This room could use a bit of color, don’t you agree?”

Dan finally turned to face him. His grey beanie had fallen off his head in his sleep, and Phil scrambled to put it back on. He claimed it was because his head got cold, but Dan knew that without hair, Phil looked a bit like an alien, and Phil knew that as well. The dark circles under his eyes made his face look sunken in, but his eyes were bright and blue, the dopey smile on his face as wide as ever. “You’re joking” was all Dan could say, because surely Phil couldn't be serious about keeping these stupid things.

“Of course I’m not,” Phil told him. He reached out, taking the crane Dan was holding and admired it fondly. “You made all of these for me, ergo they’re mine, and I can do what I want with them.” He looked up at Dan and grinned. “D’you mind doing me a favor?” 

Dan could feel his lips twitching into a smile he couldn't fight off. “What?”

“How much money have you got on you?”

* * *

Dan returned to Phil’s hospital room after spending way more money than anyone ever should on string. He was certain the cashier at Asda thought he was mad because who in their right mind would ever need _that_ much string, and for what? But Dan didn't care because as soon as he returned to Phil’s hospital room, his face lit up when he saw the bags full of twine and colorful rolls of yarn. “It’s perfect!” he said gleefully when Dan stuttered about how he wasn’t sure what kind to get or how much. “Let’s get started!”

“Started on what?” Dan asked because he still wasn’t entirely sure what Phil had planned. Although, he had a strong inkling when he saw that all the paper cranes he tried to throw out this morning have been rescued from the bin and were now lying on Phil’s bed. 

“Did you happen to remember a hole puncher?” Phil asked, looking up with a lopsided smile. It was the same lopsided smile he’d always had and it made Dan’s heart hurt. He looked so different Now compared to how he looked Before. That's how Dan liked to think of everything - ‘Before’ Phil had gotten sick and ‘Now’ that Phil was sick. ‘After’ was something he didn’t like to think about. And, despite it, Phil’s smile was still there - the same smile he’d always had. 

“Dan?” Phil said, snapping him out of his thoughts. “The hole puncher?”

“Oh, right,” Dan reached into one of his bags. “And again I ask, what the hell are we doing?”

Phil smiled gleefully at him. “We’re going to hang your paper cranes up all around my room!” he exclaimed, and Dan could feel his smile dropping. That was the absolute _last_ thing he wanted - all of his stupid paper cranes hanging around Phil’s hospital room, a sickening reminder of how pathetically optimistic he had been. He didn't need to see them all over the place every single time he came to visit Phil, he didn't want to see these bright, colorful hope destroyers all over the place. 

“It’s going to look amazing,” Phil babbled on. “We could hang a few from the ceiling, and some around my bed, and on the curtains too! This room is going to look amazing. It’s so grey and sad here all the time, but now it’s going to be happy. Everyday, when I wake up and see the cranes everywhere, I’m going to wake up happy.” He smiled at Dan again. “Doesn’t that sound great? I’ll have instant happiness everywhere, and it’s all because of you!”

Dan had to swallow the lump in his throat because holy shit, he was an _asshole_. All this time, ever since he had first found out Phil was sick, he’d been thinking of himself - how he felt, how he’d be affected by all of this. He’d been so fucking selfish. He didn’t even Phil into account, or Phil’s family, or Phil’s other friends, or anyone other than himself. Even after he’d done something for Phil, he still thought about himself, and he didn’t even realize how unbelievably shitty that was of him. Not to mention how fucking exhausting it must have been to be around him. It had taken him up until right now to realize how negative and awful he must’ve been over the past few month. Meanwhile Phil, who is _dying_ , had been nothing but positive and uplifting, even when he’s been scared out of his mind. He’d meant to be Phil’s backbone throughout this, but Phil had been the one who’s been _his_ backbone - Phil had been his backbone for his entire life. And it wasn’t fair. It was about damn time that Dan returned the favor. 

“That does sound great, actually,” he choked out, his revelation making him feel god- awful. But, he forced a smile anyway and said, “Where should we start? Ceiling?” 

Phil had already begun punching holes in some of the wings. He handed one to Dan. “Yeah, I think that’d be a great place to start.” He grinned. “God, they’re going to look so, so cool. It’ll be raining paper cranes!”

“Hallelujah,” Dan muttered, and when Phil chortled, he added, “Hallelujah, it’s raining cranes.”

“Your love for 80’s music will never fail to amuse me,” Phil murmured. 

“It should, weren’t you alive when that song was released?” Dan asked. It felt weird to joke with Phil nowadays, almost unnatural, but whenever he heard Phil laugh, it was like sunshine on a cloudy day. 

“Shut up!” Phil laughed, and then Dan laughed. And, it felt like bleeding because the laughter poured out of him uncontrollably. And it hurt. It hurt so much, but in a good way. 

“Sorry, Grandpa,” Dan snickered, and Phil smacked him in the back with stiff hospital pillow. “You’re going to ruin all of my hard work if you keep dicking around like that,” Dan said, turning toward Phil with an extended hand. “C’mon, give me a crane.”

Phil rolled his eyes but handed him a purple crane. Dan ran some yarn through the hole Phil had punched in one of its wings, and he stood on Phil’s bed to hang it from Phil’s ceiling fan. Dan smiled fondly at it, gently touching its wing, and whispered, “You were right. It looks great.”

“It’s beautiful,” Phil agreed, his voice soft and full of awe. Dan looked over his shoulder to see Phil staring up at the dangling crane with his eyes wide and wet, the biggest smile spread over his face. 

Dan’s chest felt tight. “Shall we hang the rest up?” he asked, his voice still hushed, though he wasn’t entirely sure why. When Phil nodded, Dan grabbed another. When the ceiling fan was full, they moved to the curtains, hanging cranes along the rod and blinds. Phil hung a couple around his bed frame, and Dan hung one from each door knob. A nurse had to stop them from decorating Phil’s heart monitor to avoid messing up the machinery. The sun had set by the time every inch of Phil’s room was covered in paper cranes. 

“Is that all of them?” Dan asked, looking around the room from his spot on Phil’s bed. It was a miracle they’d managed to hang all the cranes, and Phil was right - his room is bursting with happiness. 

“All but this one,” Phil said as he held a black paper crane. The only one Dan had folded with black paper, and truthfully, he had forgotten about it completely. “I want this one here,” Phil said, placing it on the small bedside table, next to a glass of water and the small paper cups that held his daily medication. “It’s my favorite.”

Dan knitted his eyebrows together. Surely Phil would want a nicer looking crane at his bedside. Why would he want to wake up to a _black_ paper crane everyday? How could that one be his favorite with all the colorful ones to choose from? “Why?” Dan asked. 

“Because, it reminds me of my best friend,” Phil said with a smile. 

Dan didn't know how Phil did it. Even after all this time, he didn’t have a clue how he managed to take his breath away so easily. And yet, without fail, Phil’s sweet and sincere words could make his heart swell. His chest ached and he was pretty sure it was because his heart could barely contain all the love he felt for Phil Lester in that moment. 

He crawled to the top of Phil’s bed, making himself comfortable next to him, and whispered, “You’re such a spoon.” it was all he could think to say right now. Phil laughed a little, shaking his head, and the two of them sit peacefully together, staring at the thousand paper cranes surrounding them. They we’re both a bit amazed at how well the room looked. It was beautiful, just. Just like that day just like the memory of that day always would be.

Later in the night, Phil started to doze off, his head on Dan’s shoulder, and Dan texted his mum to let her know he was staying the night at the hospital. He kicked off his shoes and gently nudged Phil over, so the two of them could lie comfortably together. Dan rolled over to face Phil and spoke softly, “I love you, Phil.” He felt a bit like crying. Iin fact, it took all his strength not to start weeping. His heart started to race as those words left his lips, his stomach tied itself in knots. 

Once again, Phil smiled that million dollar smile and said, “I love you too, Dan.”

Dan bit his lip. He wanted to tell Phil that he didn't mean he loves him as a friend, but that he _loves_ him. That, after all this time, after all the laughs and tears, the hugs and _everything_ , he couldn’t help but fall in love with his best friend. Because, maybe if he finally told him, then Phil would admit that he felt the same. Then, the two of them would be in love with each other, and they’d live the kind of happily ever they deserved, and, most importantly, they’d be together. And it would be perfect—everything that Dan had ever wanted. 

But, he didn't say any of that, deciding not to press the subject, because Phil loved him, and knowing Phil loved him in any way was enough. 

* * *

Phil’s hospital bed was small, and Dan’s body felt cramped, but he couldn't deny that he’d had his best night’s sleep in a while. Phil’s arm was draped loosely across his middle, and Dan sighed contentedly, snuggling closer to him for a moment before closing his eyes. He could feel Phil’s chest rising and falling by his own, and he hesitantly placeds one hands on it, feeling the way Phil’s heart fluttered beneath his fingertips. He curled his hand around the fabric of Phil’s shirt. He lays there for a couple minutes in silence, holding onto this moment and holding onto Phil. He felt at peace. He felt good. For the first time in a long time, everything felt okay. 

He eventually grew restless. He gently brushed Phil’s hair out of his face. His skin was cool to the touch. Dan whispered, “I’ll be right back.” He bit back the urge to press his lips to Phil’s forehead and instead settled for moving his hand to his hip to give it a small squeeze before untangling himself from Phil and the thin hospital sheets. 

His legs felt stiff as he walked down the hall. He could have fallen asleep in the lift as he headed downstairs, but he was just so _content_ , for the first time in months. He didn't even know why, but he just had this feeling in his chest that everything would be okay. 

When he made it to the main floor, his tired legs carried him straight to the cafeteria, a route he’d familiarized himself with over the past few months. He smiled at the receptionist and one of the older nurses he passed along the way. The cashier in the cafeteria greeted him by name and said, “Hello.” Dan continued to walk the path he’d walked countless times before since Phil began his stay: through the always open double doors, past the food line, and to the table with the purple cloth over it. There was a basket of freshly baked muffins, all plain but tasty nonetheless, biscuits, and two coffee pots one regular and one decaf. Dan filled up two paper cups with coffee and loaded up on sugar and cream, because the hospital coffee was exceptionally bitter—and he knew Phil took his coffee especially sweet. He grabbed a biscuit for Phil as well, even though he knew Phil wouldn't eat it, but just in case. 

He made polite chit-chat with the cashier as he paid for his things, asking her about her morning and how she’d been since they last spoke. After saying goodbye, he commended himself for somehow juggling all three items. He took a sip of his coffee on his way out and winced as it burned the tip of his tongue. He made his way across the main floor of the hospital, then re-entered the lift to head back upstairs to Phil. 

As soon as he stepped out of the lift, the words “Code Blue!” reached his ears, and Dan found himself frozen in his tracks. His body went rigid, his legs unable to move, his heart nearly stopped. He watched a team of doctors rush past with a crash cart, and he couldn't take his eyes off them, praying to whoever was listening, _Don’t turn left, don’t turn left, please don’t turn left._

They turned left. 

Dan dropped the coffees, the burn of the hot liquid barely registering as they spill over his fingers. They collide with the floor and splash up onto his pants, but he doesn't move. The muffin tumbled into the puddle and Dan followed shortly thereafter, his body sinking onto the floor. He couldn't breathe,; his chest felt tight, and he was shaking all over. He felt like he would be sick, but he he broke down crying instead, because he just _knew_. 

It took him a few minutes to pick himself up off the floor, leaving his mess behind him as he staggered down the hall, turning left towards Phil’s room. When he heard the words “time of death” he dropped to the floor once again, harsh sobs echoing down the hallway. 

* * * 

He wasn’t quite sure how he made it home. He didn't even remember walking home. Maybe he took a cab or a bus? He didn't know, and in the back of his mind he heard a little voice reminding him that that wasn’t entirely healthy, but he couldn't find himself to care because he just wanted to be _home_ , and here he was. Dan knocked on his front door, because he couldn't find his house key, or maybe he’d just forgotten how to use it. He wasn’t quite sure; he wasn’t quite sure of anything, today.

Nothing felt _real_ right now. H, he felt as though he was’s in a haze. It was as if the inside of his mind was filled with a thick fog, and his brain was working in overtime trying to function as an actual human being. Dan felt as though nothing was real, anyway. He didn’t feel real, and he wasn’t sure what was actually happening and what wasn’t. He felt lost and confused, like he’d taken residence in an inescapable nightmare. It didn't feel like the morning had been just a few hours ago; it felt like years ago. It didn't feel like just a few hours ago he was at the hospital making coffee for himself and Phil. 

_Phil_.

He couldn't even think his name without feeling tears prick at his eyes, but he didn't let them fall. He didn't want to cry anymore. Phil wouldn’t want him to cry over him. 

He swallowed the lump in his throat and his knuckles tapped lightly against the door. He was sure it was far too quiet for anyone to hear him, but the door flew open anyway, and suddenly his mum stood before him. Her face was flushed, and her eyes were red rimmed. She whispered, “Oh, Dan.” He thought he must looked in a worse state than her, then. She threw her arms around him and engulfed him in a hug. Dan felt stiff and shaky as she hugged him tightly and wept quietly into his shoulder. The way she hugged him made him feel like there was something breaking inside of him. He felt like he was falling apart. His arms trembled as he reached up to grab her shoulders, and just as she pulled away, he clung to her, clutching her tightly like a baby who needed his mummy. In a way he supposed that was how he felt. 

“Oh, Dan,” she said again, her voice soft and thick with tears. “I know, love, I know.”

He couldn’t be sure what she knew, because he didn't know much of anything right now. 

* * *

His dad made him a cup of tea while he took refuge on the couch in the lounge, staring at the blank TV. His dad had never been good at this sort of thing - talking to him. Ever since Dan had turned into an annoying, smart arse of a teenager with an overwhelming tendency to talk back, their relationship had been different than that with his mum. It wasn’t easy for them to talk without arguing because they saw things so differently. Dan often grew exhausted of dealing with their differences, knowing his father grew weary as well. Dan wondered if things would be different now, if their relationship would be different. He supposed everything would be different now. 

His dad placed the tea in front of Dan and reached out to give his shoulder a squeeze. Dan tore his gaze away from the telly to look up at him. His dad didn't say anything, just pressed his lips into a tight line and nodded a little. Dan reached up to place his hand on top of his, and his dad squeezed his shoulder again. Neither of them said anything but the moment was just what Dan needed.

* * *

Dan wasn’t sure what day it was or when he relocated from the lounge to his bedroom. He didn't get out of bed though. He didn't answer his phone, he didn't turn on his computer. It all seemed like too much right now, and he was too tired to do anything. 

There was’s a knock at his door. and Dan didn't say anything but it opened anyway, and his little brother stepped inside. He spent every spare moment of his time with Phil. Part of him felt a bit shitty for neglecting his family, more specifically his teenage brother. He looked so much older now, Dan still remembered him as a small baby- faced child, but the boy who stood before him was tall and lanky, like Dan in his teenage years, and he desperately needed a haircut. 

“Hey,” he said. Dan didn't say anything. His throat was sore, is lips were dry and he hadn’t spoken in hours. Part of him wondered if he’d forgotten how to speak at all. “Could I come in?”

“Sure,” Dan rasped. He cleared his throat and swallowed a few times. There was an old water bottle on his nightstand, and he gulped from it before continuing,. “What’s up?” 

Adrian shrugged and took a seat on the edge of Dan’s bed. “Missed you, I guess,” he said. Dan could tell he was trying to be cool - whatever that meant - but sympathetic at the same time and he appreciated that. At least there was a bit of authenticity with Adrian, - unlike his parents who had been tiptoeing around him as if he was a grenade. “How are you?”

“I’m fine,” Dan said immediately. God, he really wished people would stop asking him that, but everyone he met had to ask as if there was a fucking quota for how many times that question had to be asked before the funeral. How did they think he was? If anyone believed he was genuinely fine, he was worried for their social skills. But, it wasn’t as if he would be pouring his heart out to the next person who asked him. He didn't want to talk about anything. Talking about it meant thinking about it, and that was the last thing he wanted.

“I’ve missed you too,” Dan told his brother as he forced himself to sit up. “How’ve you been?”

Adrian shrugged again. “Better than you, I suppose,” he said, and Dan cracked a smile. It was nice not to be tiptoed around. It felt, in a small way, like he’d gotten Phil back. 

“Do you want to play video games?” Adrian asked before he could lose himself to his thoughts, and Dan was more than thankful for the interruption .

“Not really in the mood,” Dan replied. Then, there was a bit of guilt in the pit of his stomach, so he added, “You could play in here if you’d like. And I could just watch and remind you of how shit you are.”

Adrian cracked a smile. “I’m not shit,” he said. “You’re shit.” He grabbed Dan’s video game controller and began setting everything up while Dan watched him. He started to think about the days he and Phil spent playing video games in his room, but he pushed those thoughts to the deepest and darkest recesses of his mind.

His brother glanced back at him, and Dan stopped him. “Don’t say it.”

“Don’t say what?” Adrian asked, confused. 

“That you’re sorry. Or that you feel bad for me, or anything like that. I know you’re thinking it—I know everyone’s thinking it. I don’t need to hear it, again.” 

“Alright, alright,” Adrian said, putting his hands up in defense. Dan didn't blame him. T; that was the most he’d said in days. Had it been days? Had it been hours? He wasn’t sure anymore. “I wouldn't say any of that.”

Dan licked his lips and mumbled, “Thanks.,” He took another sip of his ancient water bottle. It didn't taste right in his mouth, but he kept drinking. Adrian resumes his spot on Dan’s bed, controller in hands, but he hesitated before starting the game. He turned, to look at Dan for a moment. “What?” Dan asked him.

“I know you loved him,” Adrian said softly, and Dan felt something breaking inside him once again. His entire body went rigid, then he felt shaky all over. He swallowed the lump that formed in his throat. “Sorry, I probably shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, it's fine.” Dan said, his voice soft and cracked. He looked down at the water bottle in his hands. “You’re right, I do love him.”

* * *

Dan couldn't sleep. 

The funeral was tomorrow, and Dan couldn't sleep. He couldn't stop thinking of Phil. 

Thinking about Phil now was strange. It was as if the bad memories, the ones of Phil sick and in the hospital, were much more vibrant in his mind—; they stood out more. And, the good memories, the things he felt like he should be dwelling on, were distant and blurry, almost like they didn’t happen. This was the first time he’d properly thought about Phil. For the past few days, he had been pushing thoughts of Phil out of his mind, because he didn't _want_ to think about him. He didn't want to miss him, and he didn't want to love him. But now, he couldn't help and he couldn't stop thinking of him—and he couldn’t stop. He missed him. He loved him. God, he fucking loved him. 

Loving Phil had always hurt. Loving him felt like he’ had ripped open his own ribcage, and let Phil reach inside to pull his heart out. Loving him felt like bleeding, like every day he bled a little bit more for him. Loving him felt like _something_. But now, Dan didn't feel anything. He just felt hollow, like Phil had taken his heart with him when he died. 

He lay in bed, staring at the wall, a carousel of Phil circling his mind. He struggled to cling to something— - anything—to make him feel again. His eyes, his smile, the way he smelled, the shirts he wore. Anything, anything at all. 

He sat up in bed abruptly, suddenly remembering something . He threw his duvet back, getting out of bed and heading to his wardrobe. He opened it, sifting through it in the dark. He considered turning the light on, but then his fingers brushed across something that felt like home and his heart skipped a beat. Biting his lip, he pulled the article of clothing from his wardrobe and held it delicately in his hands, almost as if he was afraid to touch it. It was one of Phil’s flannel shirts—he purple one with the hoodie . Dan had always fely an unexplainable attachment to Phil’s shirt - maybe because Phil just looked so good whenever he wore it. Maybe because he didn’t wear it often, and whenever he did, it felt like Christmas in July. Maybe it was just because Dan like the color purple. Whatever the reason, Dan loved this shirt more than some of his own, and he couldn’t deny that he’d felt a little happier than he should when Phil left it over at his house one day. He didn’t wear it—he could’ve, but he didn’t. Instead, he’d just put it in his wardrobe and let it sit there. He’d never told Phil he left it. He felt a little guilty about that, now.

Hesitantly and as quietly as he could, Dan shut his wardrobe and got back into bed. He laid the flannel over his pillow and lay back down, pressing his face against it, as if he’s trying to drown in it. He closed his eyes and pretended he flannel still smelled like Phil. 

* * *

There was something unsettling about how bright the sun was shining today, because everyone was wearing black crying—except for Dan. Dan didn't cry at the funeral. He didn't cry when Mrs. Lester hugged him and wept into his hair. He didn't cry when Mr. Lester thanked him for being such a good friend to Phil for all of those years. He didn't cry when he saw Martyn and his girlfriend curled into each other, silently sobbing. He didn't cry, period. 

He could tell everyone was waiting for it—waiting for him to break down, start screaming and sobbing, or throw himself at Phil’s casket as they lowered it into the ground. He didn't, though. It wasn’t that he was trying not to cry, it was just that he didn't have any tears in him. He couldn’t have cried if he tried. Which, he supposed, was a strange thing because he’d hardly cried at all since he found out Phil had died. He felt as though he should be crying, like he should be hysterical and weeping, but he wasn’t. He still didn't feel anything. 

* * *

He had convinced his parents to let him drive himself to the funeral, so he was finally alone when it was all over. He was thankful for this. He couldn't take anymore of his dad patting his shoulders, or his mum hugging him, or his brother tossing him silent, sympathetic glances. 

Dan sat in his car for a moment, running his hands over his face and sighing. He felt exhausted, like he could sleep for a whole week straight and still be tired. His bones felt heavy, and his body felt weighed down. It took him a moment to compose himself before he was ready to start driving. He pulled the sun visor down, actually putting the damned thing to use for once, and something fell onto his lap. Curious, he picked it up and almost immediately wished he hadn’t. 

It was a Polaroid photo of him and Phil—an old one at that, their hair was way too long, and it was a wonder either of them could see the camera through their fringe. The edges of the photo are worn and faded. Dan didn't even remember putting it in his car, but he remembered the day of the photo so clearly. 

_He was thirteen, and Phil was about to embark on his uni journey for the first time. It was their last, proper night together before he left. Dan knew, logically, that he would see Phil again—it wasn’t like he was going to uni halfway across the world but in that moment, it felt like he was never going to see him again. It felt like everything was changing, and he wasn’t sure if things would ever be the same between him and Phil again._

And, now... Now, Phil was gone again but it was nothing like the last time he left, because this time he was never coming back.

Dan felt hot with sudden anger, and he started to shake, his hands trembling, shaking the photo.  
_Fuck, Phil Lester. Fuck him for making me fall in love with him. Fuck me for loving him. Fuck him for leaving me._

Dan ripped up the picture without a second thought and screamed, “I hate you! I hate you!” over and over again, until his voice was raw and his chest was so tight, he couldn't breathe. There were tiny pieces of the photograph in his lap. Phil’s smile was on his thigh, and one of his eyes was at his feet. 

“You ruined everything,” he whispered, because part of him hoped there was a Heaven. Because, if there was, then Phil was most certainly there, and more importantly, he wanted Phil to hear this. “You ruined _me_ , you ruined _my life_!” He smacked the steering wheel, his hands numb and stinging. “I hate you!” he screeched. “I hate you! - _I fucking hate you_!” 

Exhausted, he slumped back against the driver’s seat and ran his fingers through his hair, gripping it tightly, as if ready to pull it all out. “You’re the worst thing to ever happen to me,” he choked out, and the words tasted so foul on his lips, he felt like he could throw up right then and there. He covered his face with his hands. He still didn't cry. 

* * *

There was a moment each day when Dan first woke up, and for a couple minutes he forgot everything. He forgot the past few days, the heavy sadness that weighed him down to his mattress for hours on end, that he couldn't bear to see anyone let alone speak to them. Most importantly, he forgot that Phil was gone. And, that kind of blissful ignorance was so fucking nice, because for a couple minutes, Dan didn't ache. For a couple of minutes, he didn't have that Phil-shaped hole in his chest anymore. 

But, then it all came back to him—it always did, there was no real escape—and he remembered everything. And, it was like reliving that moment over and fucking over again. He could feel the sting of hospital coffee burning his fingertips as the cups fall to the floor again, he could hear the words “Code Blue” being shouted again. All at once, that moment came rushing back to him. It was like being stuck in some kind of Groundhog Day hell, and as soon as he remembered Phil was gone, there was no. And god, he just wanted to stop hearing “Code Blue” again.

He didn't know how he’d expected to do it—to go on everyday like everything was okay, like he wasn’t incredibly and entirely shattered from the inside out. He had always wondered when he heard stories on the news about people dying. H, he always thought, _How do they do it? How do their loved ones just pick themselves up and keep living their day to day lives? How do they wake up every day? How do they_ breathe? Because Dan couldn't. He couldn't breathe, and he couldn't keep waking up everyday remembering his best friend was gone. 

For the past twenty-some-odd years, they’d been _Dan and Phil_ , and now they weren’t. And, he didn't know how he was expected to go on being Dan without Phil. 

* * *

His parents were beginning to worry about him. Objectively, he could understand why. He hardly left his room anymore, that had to be concerning. He didn't have the energy to eat, shower, or get out of bed, really. His uni friends had been calling and texting him, but he ignored them all, because he just didn't feel like being a person lately. And, he didn't cry. Maybe that’s what was worrying them most of all, because no one had seen him shed a tear since the day Phil died. 

He’d lost all sense of time, all of his days just sort of blurring together. After a while—days? Weeks? Months?—His parents called him out into the lounge. He didn't sit with them on the couch, instead choosing to linger by the fireplace. The mantle was dusty and there was a store-bought greeting card atop it— _My Condolences_ it said in fancy gold scripture. It was signed by some relative that Dan barely spoke to anymore. It made him want to gag. Dan hated sympathy, and he especially hated fake sympathy. 

His dad was saying something about “getting back on the horse,” and he was confused for a moment, having zoned out for the entirety of their speech. His dad could be talking about an actual horse for all he knew. He soon realized that he was talking about getting over what happened, and it made his blood boil. How the fuck was he just supposed to _get over it_? His best friend was dead and gone. Why the fuck shouldn’t his world stop because of it? Phil _was _his whole world, and now it felt as though his world had crashed and burned. Shouldn’t he be allowed to be fucking sad about that?__

__Dan grabbed the _My Condolences_ card and ripped it in half without a second thought. That shut his parents up. “This,” he spat, “is how I feel.” He ripped the card in half again. “This is how it felt inside of me over, and over, and over again. Even when I think there's nothing left of me to break, I just keep on _breaking_! I just want it to _stop_!” _ _

__“Dan–” his mum tried to interrupt._ _

__He wasn’t sure where that outburst of emotion came from, but he kept going. He felt like a soda can that someone had shaken up before pulling the tab, and now he was exploding._ _

__“No, you don’t _get it_!” he cried, damn near hysterical. “I just want to be left alone. I want to stop talking about it and thinking about it, because I couldn't take it anymore! I don’t want anyone’s sympathy or condolences. I just want Phil back!” He choked back a sob, and it took him a moment to realize that he’d begun to cry. “I just want Phil back, that’s all I want. And, no one can ever get that for me, so everyone just needs to stop asking me if I’m okay or if I need anything because there is _nothing_ that _anyone_ can do!” He turned around right away, partly because he’d made his point and has nothing else to say, but also because he didn't want to talk to anyone, anymore. He didn't care what anyone else had to say. He didn't want to hear things he’d already heard a thousand times now. He didn't want anything except Phil, and he couldn't have Phil ever again, so he’d just settle for being left the fuck alone. _ _

__He rushed back upstairs, ignoring his mum calling him, and slammed his bedroom door shut so hard, he heard picture frames fall to the floor in the hall. He dropped to the floor, his head against the door and he _sobs_. He cried just as hard, if not harder than he did at the hospital. His entire body felt twisted and tight, like he’d been shoved into a small space. He pulled his legs to his chest, buried his face in his knees, and he wept. He sobs so hard he felt as though he might throw up. His heart throbbed, and his chest ached, and he couldn't stop crying. God, he wished he could be sedated right now. _ _

__There was a part of him that wanted to scream and shout and knock things to the floor in utter frustration, because he was still so fucking mad. He was mad at himself, mad at his parents, mad at Phil. But, didn't have the energy to do any of that, or maybe he just wasn’t as mad as he thought. Maybe, he’s just sad. Whatever the reason, instead of throwing a fit, he sat on the floor and cried until he was too exhausted to cry anymore._ _

__* * *_ _

Hours after he’d finished crying, Dan just lay on the floor, feeling like he was wearing a pair of heavy boots and he started thinking. He thought about Phil—not really, but in a way. He thought about how Phil Lester was his entire world, and how he shouldn’t have been.

Phil was such an important part of Dan’s life. He had been in Dan’s life from day one, literally. He was his first best friend. He would _always_ be Dan’s best friend, no matter what. Death could not come between their bond, the things they shared, the love they had for one another. Their relationship was like no other. No future relationship Dan would ever have would compare to the one he had with Phil. Dan knew he’d never fall in love for the first time again. 

But, Phil was not the be-all and end-all of Dan Howell. And it had taken him far too long to realize that. 

He supposed, in a way, it was pretty unhealthy for him to put so much emphasis on Phil, not just while he was sick but throughout his entire life. Phil had always been a constant; he had always been there when no one else was. He listened to Dan’s problems, he held his hand when he needed it, and he always knew not to wake him without a Starbucks caramel macchiato in hand. And, because of all of the big things and little things Phil had done for him, Dan had idolized him and, in a way, dehumanized him. Phil Lester had been Dan’s wish come true, and it had been a wish Dan hadn’t even known he made. 

When Phil died, it felt like a part of Dan had died too, and Dan still didn't know what hurt more: losing Phil or losing a part of himself. His life lost all meaning when Phil died. He lost the energy to get out of bed. He lost the inspiration to do the things he loved. He lost the desire to see his friends or family. He lost a part of himself when Phil died, and he _shouldn’t have_. 

Dan had loved Phil Lester. He _loves_ Phil Lester. But, he knew that his world couldn't stop turning because he was gone. Phil wouldn’t want that, but more importantly, Dan didn’t want that.

* * *

It took a long time, but Dan is okay. Not _okay_ okay, but he’s started leaving his room more often. He has started sitting at the dinner table with his parents and brother, even if he doesn't eat. He’s stopped wearing the same pair of sweatpants for several days at a time. He finds the energy to take a shower, and sometimes after that, he has the energy to tidy his room a little bit. 

He phones the relative who sent him the card, and he thanks them. He texts his friends back, apologizing for being so distant. Of course, they understand. He makes plans to meet up with one of them, and he’s even brave enough to go to the Starbucks that he and Phil used to frequent. He hugs his mum. He tells his dad he loves him. He plays video games with Adrian. He goes over to the Lesters’ house and sits with them for hours as they talk—not just about Phil, but about everything. Before he leaves, Phil’s mum gives him the biggest hug. And, Dan _swears_ that he can feel Phil hugging him. And, it takes a long time, but Dan could slowly feel his broken pieces being mended. 

* * *

Dan re-enrolls in uni a few years later; his unfinished law degree behind him, permanently forgotten. And, this time around, he decides to study medicine. He thought it would be good for him - he would be studying something he genuinely cared about this time, and he would have more motivation than ever to actually go to class. He knows he won’t be the person who finds a cure for cancer, but he knows he’s going to help people, and that’s all he wants. Wishes can't save lives, but maybe one day he can.

His parents have left, and he’s alone in his dorm—at least before his roommate arrives—and he takes this moment of solitude to unpack. Or, at least, dig out the essentials from his many, many boxes. The first thing he unpacks is an old shoe box with only two things inside of it: a black and a blue paper crane. 

He holds them both carefully in his hands, thankful they both survived the move, and he smiles at them. it has been a long, long time since he was able to look at a paper crane without being filled with an inexplicable sadness that made him feel both heavy and weak. But, now he’s in a better place— now, he’s _okay_. And, he hasn’t been okay for such a long time. 

Phil would be happy to know this—that’s what people keep telling him. Phil would be happy to know that he’s so happy again, that he’s in a good place, that he’s _okay_. And, for the first time, Dan actually believes them. 

It still hurts, Dan supposes it’s always going to hurt, but not as bad as it used to. He could talk about him, and think about him, and things are okay—not always good, certainly not great, but _okay_. 

Phil was gone. It was always going to be a painful realization, but it was true. Phil wasn’t going to visit him in his dorm, he wasn’t going to be at his graduation ceremony, he wouldn't be there when Dan started a family. But, at the same time, it was like he hadn’t left at all. Because, Dan will always have Phil, and he knows Phil is always with him. 

Every sunset he sees that turns the sky soft and pink or wild shades of orange and yellow, he knows he’ll think of Phil. Every cup of coffee he drinks, whether it’s full of sugar or decaf and gross, he knows he’ll think of Phil. Every Christmas morning, and every time there’s an episode of of Buffy the Vampire Slayer on TV, and every time he sees a dog walking down the street, he knows he’ll think of Phil. And, when he laughs, he’ll think of Phil. Because, no one made him laugh harder than Phil, and no one loved his laugh more than Phil. He’s made a promise to laugh more these days, for Phil. 

Dan reached out for the blue paper crane, appropriately sat next to a black one, on his bedside table. His fingers gently stroke the paper wings, and he smiles a real, genuine smile. His wish for Phil’s cancer to magically go away may have not come true, but he got something even better —he got over twenty years of friendship with Phil Lester. And that was, by far, worth more than any wish that could’ve ever come true.

**Author's Note:**

> head on over to chat w/ me about this fic on tumblr, if you'd like!!! (@mermaidmaldonado) also click [here](http://mermaidmaldonado.tumblr.com/tagged/stars-are-gonna-shine-tonight) for my fic tag on tumblr; and [here](http://mermaidmaldonado.tumblr.com/post/131708861995) for my fic playlist (made my me)!


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